


Pink and Purple Perfection

by SunlitGarden



Series: Pink Perfection [1]
Category: Dismissed (2017), Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, No Jughead, No Veronica, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Betty Cooper finds herself transfixed by Riverdale's latest transfer student. He's intelligent, well-dressed, and basically the ideal citizen. But something unsavory lurks under the edges, and Betty finds herself drawn to Lucas Ward's facade as much as she wants to be a part of his darkness.ORLucas Ward is obsessed with perfection...so who better to obsess with than Betty Cooper, Riverdale's very own girl-next-door?





	1. Scars

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe Jughead and Veronica are not at Riverdale High. Veronica is probably relaxing somewhere in New York and Jughead is at Southside High. Before I get any questions or attacks on my Bughead/Sprousehart loyalties, this is a speculative work of fiction that I got inspired by after watching Dylan in Dismissed where he plays a manipulative and violent student obsessed with perfection and the future. I was like, "With that hair, those eyes, that style, and obsession with grades, he'd make a great addition to the Cooper family and Riverdale in general." THUS A FIC IS BORN. Still love Bughead. Still love (Cole) Sprousehart. Just gonna roll with imagination on this. Comments and kudos appreciated. Also if you wanna watch a fan video I made that vaguely resembles this fic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bQn-oO4k6s

The classroom fills with its usual static nonsense, Kevin lamenting for the thousandth time, “I still can’t believe you chickened out. He’s so _hot_. God, if only he played for the other team.”

Betty manages to shoot him a wry smile over her shoulder. “You should talk to _him_ about that. Right now he’s having a hard enough time playing football.”

They exchange a few muffled giggles before Mr. Butler calls everyone to attention from his desk. “Class, we have a new student on board. Lucas, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Betty stiffens to attention, taking in the sharply dressed blonde boy at the head of the class who takes to the podium like impromptu speeches are nothing to him. “Hi class, my name is Lucas Ward,” he annunciates perfectly, “And English happens to be my favorite subject. I look forward to getting to know you all through literary discussion, exploring the great works of…”

“Is this the guy?” Kevin whispers in her ear. Without turning around, she nods. Riverdale so rarely gets new students, it’s impossible that it would be anybody else.

_Normally_ she’s the welcoming committee and peer mentor for transfers…part of the whole student council initiative to help students get acclimated to their admittedly small high school. Apparently Mr. Ward felt he didn’t need a tour, and promptly requested a syllabus from all of his classes so he could _retroactively_ complete his coursework up to this point. She’s never heard of such a thing. Her gaze slips surreptitiously to Mr. Butler’s desk, where he’s happily going through an entire labeled binder full of papers.

“Loser!” Reggie fake-coughs from the back, calling her focus back to the new boy in front. His gaze darkens for a second, and Betty feels an impending panic rise within her. Mr. Butler calls Reggie out long enough for Lucas to get his bearings. Betty wants to comfort him, assure Lucas that Riverdale isn’t like whatever school he’s just come from. He has that look about him, like, “Oh. It’s like that here. Like it is everywhere else.” All he did was dress nicely and talk about how much he likes Faulkner, that’s hardly a crime.

“Well,” Lucas says dismissively, “I guess that’s my cue.”

The sting in her palms lessens as he moves robotically towards an open seat. From his academic enthusiasm, he’d probably prefer a seat near the front but he gets stuck two rows over near the empty desk by Ethel. He arranges his notes just-so on his desk before he settles into the sort of focused attention-tunnel she recognizes in herself during class. Ethel tries to whisper hello, and he manages a smile. Well, at least he’ll have one friend.

Kevin prods her shoulder with his pencil. “His favorite subject is English.”

“So?” she whispers back, trying not to turn or make it too obvious.

“ _So_ you should ask him to help with the Blue and Gold. I’m sure he’ll want some after-school activities. From the looks of that binder he sure loves to write, and Mr. Butler would love another literary nerd on the team.”

As if on cue, Lucas raises his hand to answer one of Mr. Butler’s prompts. At least he’s not shy.

“Kevin, he's only just started. I doubt the guy who couldn't be bothered with a school tour is going to be super eager to join a club on his first day.”

Kevin narrows his eyes in determination. “This place is smaller than the Blossom mansion, no one _really_ needs a tour. Besides, don’t you think he deserves a nicer impression of Riverdale than Reggie and Ethel?”

Inwardly groaning, she nods. Satisfied, Kevin finally leans back in his seat. He probably only likes him because he’s cute. When Mr. Butler allows them to take the last fifteen minutes to work on their essays, Betty notices that like her and Kevin, Lucas finishes his early. Kicking her seat, Kevin urges her to approach him.

“Why don’t you go?” she pleads, feeling shy.

“You need practice talking to cute boys besides me and Archie. Besides, he's new and deserves someone blonde and soft in nice places to be the best welcoming committee he never asked for.”

“Because you’re so hard and scary,” she rolls her eyes. Still, she slides out of her desk, pulling at her pink pastel skirt as she makes her way to Lucas. Thankfully it’s not totally awkward because some people are blowing off the essay-writing and talking for the last bit of class. Reggie for one is loudly asking Midge exactly how serious things with Moose are. Lucas tenses into his notes so much that he doesn’t notice Betty until she slides into the seat behind him.

“Don’t mind Reggie, he’s always a handful,” she says, hoping that her smile will loosen him up just a little.

For a second she’s stricken by his pale eyes and the way his light brown hair sheens to gold when it falls in front of his face. It’s like he’s changing right before her eyes, shifting so fast she can’t quite see where the transition takes place. _Don’t be superficial_ , she chides herself, and tries to focus on being _friendly_ like her mother would instruct her. “I’m Betty Cooper.”

“Lucas Ward,” he offers pleasantly, putting his hand out in a rather business-like fashion.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” she giggles, shaking his hand firmly. It feels like she’s playing pretend, but the warmth in his eyes seems somewhat genuine, so she swallows her amusement and tries to play along. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re quite loquacious. We could really use someone like you on the Blue and Gold.”

“The newspaper?” he clarifies, eyebrow quirked. He pads his folders on his desk until they align just-so. The use of the word _loquacious_ seems to have captured his interest.

She feels silly, borderline juvenile talking to him when his mannerisms are so professional. “Riverdale doesn’t have a ton of after-school clubs so…I thought maybe you’d like to join. If you’d rather get settled before committing to anything, that’s absolutely your prerogative. Mr. Butler here is our resident advisor but for the most part we can write what we want. It looks great on college applications.”

He’s watching her, maybe a small bit of amusement dancing behind his eyes. Trying not to squirm, she waits before he responds cordially, “I would love to, Betty Cooper.”

Betty takes him in again, the newest member of the Blue and Gold. The chiseled jaw, the striped button-down shirt under a thick sweater, dark fitted jeans. Very preppy. Very polite. It’s all very Cooper-approved, down to the coiffed hair. But none of that matters, because her mother told her this year she has to _focus_.

“Great. We meet in room 104 after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. If you need me to show you—“

He waves a hand, dismissing the offer. “I found it earlier. I always like to get a lay of the land before coming in to a new school.” That’s weird. She narrows her eyes at him.

“I thought you turned down the tour?” Lucas takes in a sharp, nervous breath, but other than that his face remains a passively pleasant canvas.

Lucas holds the air in his lungs before pushing out the perfectly worded response. “My father’s work takes him around the country, so this isn’t my first transfer. That’s never stopped me from pursuing my education with a vigor, no matter what district it lands us in. I prefer to map things out on my own first. It gives me a better idea of what to expect. Besides, I tend to do better in social settings when I’m one-on-one. Debate, chess club, et cetera. It appears Riverdale High hasn’t invested in those particular activities, but the newspaper seems like a proper outlet to make sure I stay on the right track.”

“You sound like my mother,” Betty chuckles. At his startled expression, she backtracks. “No—I mean, she’s very invested in my future. _The_ future. It can be a lot to handle.” Lucas shrinks away from her, closing off, practically screaming (no one understands) in his body language. She hates that feeling. She _knows_ that feeling. It usually translates into her nails curling into her palms until the world makes sense again. She notices that Lucas has a few rings he fidgets with. She doesn’t want him to feel alone—at least not before he has a chance to see Riverdale for what it _could_ be. “Listen, Kevin and I usually sit by the track field during lunch, second table on the left. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

Reserved, he grants her a smile and a nod. “Thank you, Betty.”

“See you later, Lucas.”

She has no idea how he’ll fare the rest of the day, but at least she feels she’s done her part.

 

* * *

 

By the time Lucas makes it to lunch, he really just wants to be by himself and start on all the new homework. But that would be weird. It would draw attention. Still, he’s not ready for the trial of facing a large group of his peers. Instead, he grabs his lunch from his locker and prepares to find his way to the library. A chubby girl by the name of Ethel stops him on the way.

“Oh, Lucas, are you lost? If you want to eat outside, the track and field section is this way. I’m just dropping off this science paper but I can walk you if you’d like.”

“No, thank you Ethel. I’ll find my way.” Girls like Ethel are easy to manipulate. They’ve never been given enough affection so even a taste of it will make them his best friend and ally. But he doesn’t need an ally right now. Not yet. It’s only the first day. That other girl… _Betty_ …seemed to have a keen eye though. Maybe he should check out the competition.

Waltzing past the typical tables of jocks, nerds, and rebels, Lucas finds Betty by her ponytail. She’s blonde, pretty, soft, with supple pink lips. She’s what every little girl would hope to be, down to her homemade lunch and pink skirt. Kevin, the boy at her table, is handsome, clean-cut, and seems to be enjoying the track team’s vigorous shirtless exercise. So he’s not her boyfriend then.

“Betty, does that offer for lunch still stand?” Lucas asks, putting on what he hopes is his best jovial expression.

“Oh! Of course! Lucas, this is Kevin. He’s in our English class and runs the gossip column of the Blue and Gold.”

“Kevin. It’s a pleasure.” They shake hands, Kevin shooting Betty a look that Lucas’s gotten used to. _Wow, impressive._ The reaction never gets tiring.

“So Lucas, tell us all about yourself.”

He launches into the familiar script, just enough detail to prevent too many other questions.

“So do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend at your former school?”

That’s a bit _forward_ , he thinks. Even Betty’s ears are blushing pink as she shakes her head to silence her friend. “No. I…” He tries to phrase it as pleasingly as he can, knowing that he could use the affection of either person here. But who would be more valuable? “I find my time is best invested in a few, close friendships.”

“So no desire to date? None at all? I have the scoop on all the local hotties,” Kevin offers. Although it’s clear from the way he dresses and holds himself that Kevin is intelligent, to engage in such a base first conversation disappoints Lucas. Was everyone his age determined to be a hormonal plebeian?

“No, not yet. I tend to focus on my studies.” It’s borderline a warning. Betty and Kevin must sense it because they tense alongside his response.

“So what classes have you enjoyed so far?” Betty asks lightly, picking at her salad as if she’s not really enjoying it. Lucas answers carefully, studying her in a different way than she studies him.

She rests her chin on her hand and smiles a lot, but most of the time it doesn’t quite reach her bright green eyes. They’re large, expressive, but the way she moves is sometimes very guarded like she’s operating under hidden orders. Her responses to his mentions about classical literature are on point, and she does engage beyond the drama of the piece, which seems to be what captivates her friend Kevin. So what does she _want_? Everyone has motivation. The mention of her parents and the almost permanent veil of politeness makes him wonder if she’s a people-pleaser, like he’s pretending to be. It doesn’t matter if people are pleased or otherwise. He just wants his perfect grades so he can get on with his perfect life. The admiration of his peers and teachers just makes it easier. Sometimes goody-two-shoes are so uptight that any malleability is lost on them. Still. People seem to like Betty, to look at her, and she’s looking at him like she’s actually interested in what he has to say. Halfway through their lunch a redhead wearing a varsity jacket plops down on the other side of Kevin.

“Hey,” he pants, nodding to his friends. “Sorry, had to run from the music lounge. Josie keeps insisting that Val and I have to learn to _harmonize_. It doesn’t help that she hates my guts and I have absolutely _no_ idea what she’s talking about.”

“Are you unfamiliar with music theory?”

The three kids stare at him. A prickly feeling rises on the back of his neck. He’s standing out. He’s not supposed to stand out, he’s supposed to rise above. “My name is Lucas,” he offers his hand, much to the wary redhead’s chagrin. He’s an athlete. They usually have the hardest time coming to terms with his intelligence, second only to those who _think_ themselves more intelligent.

“Archie Andrews. You’re new.” The varsity jacket and broad shoulders don’t impress Lucas, but he tries to remain nonthreatening for now.

“Guilty as charged. Are you Kevin or Betty’s boyfriend?”

Kevin practically guffaws, Betty giggles, cheeks flushing gradually, whereas Archie reddens all at once. Betty covers her mouth with an apple when she smiles, drawing attention back to those pretty pink lips of hers. Hm. He wonders if she’s doing it for his benefit or the redhead’s. Inviting and hiding. He’s certainly played that game.

“I’ll take it that’s a no,” he teases them.

“Sadly, Archie can’t see the feast of sexy before him,” Kevin teases. “We’re all just friends. Welcome to Riverdale: the town with pep.”

His response is so droll that Lucas actually manages a chuckle. This school may not be _all_ bad, although from the looks of little Archie here they won’t be very intelligent. Nothing new in that regard. He’ll just take advantage of the quiet and work on his college applications.

 

* * *

 

The Blue and Gold proves more fruitful. Mr. Butler seems to recognize and praise his talents, which is exactly the correct way to be welcomed into the fold of Riverdale. “Thank you for joining us, Lucas. With just the small percent of writing samples I’ve seen, I think you’ll make an excellent addition to the team.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, every ounce sincerity. Weirdly enough, when he’s scanning the room he finds that Betty is proud of him. Shouldn’t she be upset that he’s stealing the spotlight? That seems to be reserved for the stoic Dilton Doiley glowering from the corner, who’s still upset that Lucas already earned his Eagle Scout verification in another town while he’s still chipping away at it. But that intellectual killjoy doesn’t _appreciate_ literature, he just likes watching the world burn. Still, he could be a valuable resource. Lucas has already stalked him enough to find out that he has _multiple_ unlicensed firearms, just in case he needs something for a rainy day. An article, perhaps?

People mill about the room, Betty taking her place at the layout board for the latest issue. The way she loses herself in the words is captivating, to say the least. So she’s a _thinker_. Lucas is just about to approach her for story ideas when Dilton slides in front of him.

“You’re quite the jack of all trades,” he comments dryly, beady eyes blinking out from behind his thick-framed glasses.

“I value all kinds of education, yes,” Lucas replies politely. “Learning never exhausts the mind, according to Leonardo da Vinci.”

Dalton’s mouth curls wryly. “Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.”

“You’re familiar with his work.” It’s surprising, really, that Dilton would have that kind of quote readily available. Perhaps he’s a man who spends a lot of time preparing for his own brand of greatness. Lucas finds Dilton to be a man of his own vision, drawing facts only to support his own predetermined conclusions. A man like that doesn’t find pleasure in dissecting Voltaire or the human mind, he finds it in holding himself superior, mastering nature.

Lucas has already mastered a lot about human nature, flaws and all. This boy scout demeans others instead of using them, and that’s his first mistake.

Dilton narrows his eyes emphatically. “Da Vinci also said _intellectual passion drives out sensuality_.” What is this power-hungry man-child trying to say? Dilton turns surreptitiously to Betty, who’s still puzzling over some police blotter reports with Kevin, blonde ponytail bouncing softly with every turn of her head. The boy scout’s eyes linger on her backside for a second too long before flitting unemotionally back to Lucas. He wants to swat him for being so blatantly disrespectful, but keeps his mask carefully in place as the boy continues, “I recommend you keep that in mind whilst participating at the Blue and Gold. I think your time may be better spent tutoring the next generation of scouts in the art of survival.”

“Don’t you believe the scouts are already in good hands? I think I may have found a better use for mine here.” Lucas gleans, aware of the challenging smirk cracking through his nice boy facade. Ruffling, the boy scout storms out of the room. Whether Dilton has a crush on Betty or a disdain for courtship, the implication remains that men of _their cloth_ so to speak, are of a superior kind. As if Dilton knows anything worth endowing to the next generation beyond how to tie a knot and load a firearm. Lucas has never needed nor sought any kind of romantic companionship, even when it pursued him directly.

Still, Lucas feels a little indignant and marches right over to Betty because some boy scout isn’t going to keep him from two of Riverdale’s most valuable resources.

“What are we looking at here?” he asks, casually leaning over her shoulder.

“My dad’s police blotter. Betty _insists_ there’s always a story there, even when half of it is just minor gang activity on the south side.”

“Is crime your drug of choice?” Lucas asks, meaning it to be playful.

A little shyly, excitement brimming just beneath the surface, she smiles at him. “I just…I get excited about the mystery of it all, about helping people and—”

“Truth and justice, exposing corruption, we get it. When she was ten she used her Nancy Drew skills to help my dad catch a robber and she’s been hooked ever since,” Kevin sighs, but the look on his face is proud. “She also tutored Archie in math so he wouldn’t be left behind, so I’m pretty sure you’re just too good for this world.”

Lucas doesn’t quite have to hide the smile they all share, Betty practically glowing under the praise. No wonder she attracted attention even from the likes of the celibate Dilton Doiley. “Would you agree, Betty? Are you too good for this world?”

Betty seems to slide into herself under scrutiny, even pleasant attention. With that kind of perfect reputation, no doubt it’s difficult for her to make any mistakes.

“Or…do you prefer to be bad?” he offers, and although he’s not being particularly salacious her cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

“Everything needs its own balance,” she shrugs, “A personal ever-changing scale of grey. We’re all just doing our best, right?” The answer is surprisingly mature, and Lucas acquires a modicum of respect for her.

 

* * *

  

He needles into her life a little more, trying to get under what makes her tick. She’s perfectly pleasant, _friendly_ even, taking it a step beyond his normal interactions. Once their first paper together is published, she takes him aside and assures him, eyes bright and shiny. “You did _great_ Lucas. Your first article already above the fold? So amazing! I can’t wait to see what else you do for us.”

Chuckling, he nods, basking in the praise. Her eyes crinkle up at the sides, hand squeezing his shoulder in familiarity. When he tenses, she brings her hands to her sides, seemingly making a mental note that he doesn’t like to be touched.

“It’s fine,” he breathes, trying to relax . “I’m just…surprised. It’s not often I get manhandled by someone wearing a ponytail and cardigan.”

Her smile makes it hard to fake his own. “Well if you keep writing such great articles it may happen more often.”

Their nervous laughter creeps along the edge of the room, drawing the attention of a curious Kevin. Lucas tries to play down the flirtatious aspect of his preening.

“Shouldn’t you be afraid I’m coming after your headlines?”

“Should I be?” she grins, ponytail swinging behind her. “After all, we edit each other’s pieces so our mutual success is best for everyone.”

“Everyone, huh? Oh, I’m confident that the better writer will come out literally on top…of the fold, that is.”

The almost-innuendo inspires a little glean behind her eyes. She smooths her ponytail, as if a single hair would ever be out of place. “Yes, well…I may look harmless, Lucas. But you better watch out, because I’m a lot more dangerous than I look.” Her mischievous smile sends a flutter of uncertainty through him. She’s not _flirting_ with him. Are they playing this game?

“I’d like to see that,” is all he says, leveling with her. The air feels heavy with implication around them, but she doesn’t touch him again.

 

* * *

 

Betty’s almost too embarrassed to look at Lucas. She’s been dreaming about him _all week_. Dirty, sweaty, sheet-changing dreams that leave her waking drenched in desire. It’s sickening, really. Her mother thinks something’s wrong with the thermostat since she keeps throwing her sheets in the wash. She’s agitated to the point of almost _wanting_ to take that ADD medication. At least that’ll make her focus, but on the other hand it also makes her a lot more agitated. So instead she goes to class and tries to ignore the flames creeping up her neck every time Lucas interjects in class. Mr. Butler’s had to resort to calling on people randomly just so his hand doesn’t shoot up every single time like some nightmare scene out of Harry Potter.

When Lucas turns to listen to another student’s answer, he _judges_ them. Those pale eyes of his darken, pupils swelling until he decides they’re unworthy, at which point he turns away and the pale green/blue takes over. Getting judged by Lucas feels like sitting in a hot pan, not sure if she’ll be burned until the end. So far he hasn’t been able to find anything he doesn’t like in her, no reason to look away when she’s speaking, and it fills her with a little quiet thrill, even if there is a quiet anger lurking behind his stare.

Why is he so obsessed with being the best, with being _among_ the best? Worst of all, why is she so damned attracted to it?

It’s probably the perfectionist in herself. The way she knows he spends the extra time ironing his shirt the same way she spends extra time on her ponytail to make sure nothing flies away and it’s curled at the ends. They’ve been playfully fighting for dominance on the first page, Mr. Butler being kind to both sides.

One day Lucas shows up in a dark purple blazer, a matching shirt underneath, and Betty’s mouth runs dry. Kevin _used_ to be the best dressed in the grade, but Lucas takes it to a new level. Every day he brings that sense of style, and perhaps the novelty of blazers amidst the usual cotton tees and baggy jeans of their peers draws her to him. If anyone can understand the need to appear and perform perfectly, it’s Lucas.

She wants to compliment him on it, the same way she desires approval for the extra effort she goes to for herself, knowing that it’s _never_ enough for her family. During class she finds herself distracted by the curve of his jaw, fantasizing what it’d be like to go to the dance with him, be encircled by those arms instead of Archie’s. He’d probably be too polite, standing six inches apart and looking out on the entire room before casually looking down at her. But maybe not. Maybe all that intensity would be focused on _her_ , and the thought does something inside her stomach.

Lucas tenses, his handwriting swirling irregularly. What is going on with him? He glares in her general direction, like it’s _her_ fault. She doesn’t move. She can’t have done anything, right? Just behind her to the left Reggie keeps flirting and giggling with Midge. Maybe it’s them? The way he’s clenching his pen, eyes darting to the white board behind them, reminds her of the side effects she’s experienced from the ADD medication.

After class he’s still distracted, so she pulls him aside, trying to ignore the thrill of touching his forearm through the purple jacket. “Hey, are you okay?” His eyes dart behind her to Midge and Reggie who move on to the free period. Maybe he likes her? Midge seems more interested in the _physical_ as opposed to the intellectual, but maybe that’s his thing? He _definitely_ doesn’t like Reggie. Both her and Kevin have discussed Lucas’s supposed sexuality at length, wondering if maybe he just _isn’t_ interested.

Lucas is really more _charming_ than _flirty_ most of the time. Kevin’s started referring to him like he’s the prince…”How’s _Charming_ doing today? Are you and Charming staying late tonight?”

She wishes. But she doesn’t want to make him…uncomfortable. Although most of her flirting has been received with a smile, she doesn’t want to push her boundaries too far. Besides, it seems like he could really use somebody. A friend.

“Let me take you to lunch,” she offers, rubbing Lucas’s arm in what she hopes is a comforting way.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you by the exit in a minute,” he concedes, barely looking at her. His eyes are still laser-focused on Reggie.

“Okay,” she shrugs, knowing that if he’s using teenage slang like _yeah_ he’s probably not in a great mental state. 

When he reappears to meet her he looks better, smug even, running a hand through his hair to put it back in place. He tugs his jacket and holds the door open for her. “So, where to, mademoiselle?”

The pronunciation is flawless, like he’s been studying French his whole life. Is there anything he can’t do? Well, besides sports? He’s claimed at lunch that sports involve luck and brawn whereas he much prefers something that requires brainpower to win. Archie didn’t like _that_ conversation.

“I was thinking we could go to Pop’s. They have the best milkshakes and burgers in town.”

“How retro,” he smiles amiably. “My car is just this way, I’d be happy to accompany you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to drive. I thought we’d just walk.”

“Please, it’s no trouble at all,” he gestures, arm out, and Betty feels like she’s just wandered into a movie from the 1950’s where teenage boys are sweet and cordial. Kevin’s going to be so jealous that they’re going on a solo lunch date, but if she gives him something cute or juicy to talk about he’ll probably be appeased. _Charming_ strikes again.

Lucas’s car is surprisingly upscale. She knows his dad is a lawyer, so maybe it’s his car? But the way Lucas has everything immaculately organized she thinks maybe not. There’s not a lot of money in Riverdale outside of the Blossoms, and so far (much to her pleasure) Lucas has shown zero interest in Cheryl or her cronies. After listening to him wax poetic in class, Cheryl had just rolled her eyes and muttered something about _another speech._

Lucas isn’t quite relaxed when he drives, gripping the wheel firmly, and Betty can’t help but feel like maybe he _is_ on the same drugs her mom pushes on her. When they get into the booth at Pop’s, they ease into talking about old books and movies until the milkshakes arrive. She feels _special_ being here with him, being _chosen_ as one of the few friends he has. Any attempts on her end to expand his friend circle have been waved off with his usual genial disposition and “I prefer a few, focused friendships.”

So far that’s mainly just been her and Kevin, especially once he found out Keller was the Sheriff in town. Probably something to do with his obsession with justice.

“Hey Lucas, can I ask you something as a friend?”

His entire demeanor shifts into something a little more guarded, but still deceptively open. It’s like when her mom asks her about her grades. There’s nothing to _hide_ but she still feels the need to protect herself. “Of course, Betty. Ask away.”

“Do you…is your dad making you take Adderol?” Lucas blinks, surprised. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just…you seem kinda intense and irritable lately, and my mom sometimes makes me take it too.”

His relieved little chuckle tightens the knot in her stomach. “No, I’m just…naturally intense, I guess. I apologize if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.” His hands knot into fists, something _else_ she recognizes, even if his fingers twitch into playing with his ring instead of digging in until he bleeds.

“No, I’m not—uncomfortable,” she clarifies carefully, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why would you want to do that?” he frowns.

Lucas, for all his sharp observations, still appears to have dropped in from another planet sometimes. “Because I care about you.” She tries to make the sentence light, but his gaze darkens a little all the same. Does he…not believe her? “And…I know how it feels…to feel this need to be _perfect_.”

“I don’t want to be perfect…I want to be the best. Caring about one’s grades is nothing to be alarmed about,” he replies, voice slightly strained, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t trust her. Great.

“Sometimes it’s grades. Sometimes it’s family, or references, or internships. I get it. I… _worry_ …I _care_. The pressure is just—“ He’s still studying her, and subconsciously she opens her palms on the table, his eyes lighting up on the scars there. Flinching, she closes them again. “I used to…I still do, have to suppress this darkness in me. Pain is sometimes the only thing that keeps me grounded, keeps me focused. I just worry that you’re putting the same amount of undue pressure on yourself, that you’re hurting yourself in the long run like—like I hurt _myself_.”

His eyes are wide now, alit like when Mr. Butler gives them a particularly juicy essay prompt. When he takes her hands in his, she half expects him to write on her. Instead, he opens them and traces her scars with fascination, recognition, and something in her heart stirs. He’s leveling with her now, the pretense of charm stripped away for something a little more raw. “I’ve never physically hurt myself, but I do understand the idea of physicalizing stress to use it as a honing tool for your studies. I’m guessing things must not be too good at home.”

Wincing, she tugs her hands away, but he remains steadfast in his gentle ministrations. “My mom…she’s intense.”

“I wouldn’t know. My mother passed away when I was young,” he shrugs, and even though he says it like it’s another memorized fact she sees the way his Adam’s apple bobs.

“I’m so sorry, Lucas,” she whispers, feeling tears well up as his fingers trace her scars. “I’m here, if you want to talk about anything.”

His pale eyes flicker to her face, some kind of studious vulnerability there. He curls her hands in his own and presses them to his lips. “Your body and your brain are a precious commodity, Betty. Take care of them.”

Before she can help herself, Betty is overwhelmed with emotion and leans across the table to kiss him. He’s shocked for a second, but when she holds the kiss there he relaxes into it, like he’s slowly processing the experience. It’s not stars and fireworks, but it’s a steady fire thrumming in her heart.

_Oh god he’s not even reciprocating_ , she realizes with a start. He’s new and she’s taking advantage when she came here to help him.

Suddenly bashful, she pulls away, aware of the way his pupils shift, eyelashes fluttering gently open. He’s studying her again, unsure of what just happened.

“Sorry. I just—thank you,” she mutters, biting her lip, unable to ignore the way he’s looking at her now, like he wants to pry her open and see what’s inside.

 

* * *

 

Betty Cooper is a lot more like Lucas than he’d ever anticipated. While she tries to deal with distractions internally, Lucas takes the more practical approach of dealing with them _externally_. Those scars may as well have been a beacon to him. She’s on her own quest for perfection. Blonde, valedictorian girl next door Betty Cooper is trusting _him_ to help her be her best, and is _offering_ to help _him_ get there. As if they can share this pedestal.

It’s laughable that she thinks he’d want her help. Perhaps she’s a little naive, as witnessed by her mild infatuations with him and Archie (because yes, he’s _noticed_ ). After all, she thought he was agitated and over-performing because of medication. He has tried medication before, just out of curiosity. But he needs to be the _best_ , and he certainly doesn’t like the idea of anyone being able to point to _drugs_ as the reason he’s well and above everyone else.

After their impromptu kiss, they both just sort of settle back into their lunches a bit more jittery than before. He’s still deciding how he wants to play this. He opens her doors, smooths his hair, noting the way she trembles and bites her lip every few minutes before practically running to class.

Studying comes first, so he blocks out all Betty-related thoughts until he can safely examine them in the privacy of his own home. His father’s not in, thank goodness. That means he can study in peace without the stench of cheap alcohol permeating the house. Once he’s finished his homework, he leans back in his chair to think on other projects.

_Betty Cooper._

He’s had his marks fall for him before, and most of the time he’s able to gently urge them in another direction or stay just under the radar of infatuated without actually engaging in a relationship. Lucas knows all the semantics of courtship, could probably write a book on it. But it doesn’t usually _interest_ him. Riverdale doesn’t have enough challenges. He’ll probably be moving on soon enough to a bigger, better school. Although…Mr. Butler does seem to be an impressive mentor, and he did say he’s applying for a professorship at an in-state college, which could be an impressive referral for the Ivy League schools. Maybe he can stay in Riverdale just long enough to savor what it has to offer…and one of the few interesting things it has to offer is Betty (Elizabeth) Cooper. Her mind. Her pain. Her image.

He imagines ramming his cock down that perfect little throat of hers, pulling her ponytail and thrusting his hips until her doe eyes water up at him. He wonders what it would be like to put her back together again, rubbing her back and fixing her hair, pinching her sensitive flesh and sending her back out into the world. It all seems just as appealing as tearing her apart.

Thoughts like this irritate him. They intrigue him, of course, but it feels so debasing, so juvenile to want to fuck some girl until she cries. Still, if he doesn’t work it out of his system, he won’t be able to focus on plotting his science project for later, so he irritably tends to himself until he’s spent, immediately cleaning the area afterwards as if it’s a crime scene.

The next day he approaches her after class, aware of the way she tenses when he’s near. She’s embarrassed, flushing as Kevin slyly slides past them. Lucas tries to be nonthreatening, wearing a slightly more casual navy shirt in an attempt to blend in with his peers a bit. “Would you accompany me on a walk?”

“Of course,” she acquiesces, finding it hard to look at him.

It’s just amazing to him that a top student like Betty Cooper could be so easily manipulated, so easily duped into feeling something for someone so new. A nagging critic inside of him argues that she likes _him_ because _he’s different_. Kevin’s never alluded to any other dates or crushes when it comes to the girl, and with her sweet disposition there’s no way she hasn’t had other suitors. In fact, Kevin often alludes to the fact (as opposed to opinion) that Betty Cooper is the best girl in Riverdale, if not the tri-state area. Maybe she just hasn’t had the right _kind_ of suitor. She has said her parents are picky, and she’s probably way too smart for the idiots at this school.

Lucas slides his hands in his pockets and leads the way to the terrace, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she’s following. She’s not like most girls their age, although not entirely the way he’s more like a man amongst boys. Although she still dresses like a contemporary teen, it’s almost like she’s blending another era where they value high collars and soft sweaters.

“I thought you might want to talk about what happened at Pop’s,” he begins, curious to see how she’ll take the conversation.

“Yeah…I—um,” the normally verbose girl squirms, looking for an outlet. It makes him want to grab her shoulders and force her to focus on _him_. He dressed down for _her_ today, after all. It’s supposed to make him more approachable.“I know you want to focus on your grades, and to be honest my parents say the same thing, so…I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know _why_ I did that. I guess I just…like you,” she swallows harshly, as if the words are embarrassing, an admission. “So I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary that you didn’t want to be crossed.”

It’s amusing that she thinks this infatuation of hers is sincere. She’s barely known him for two weeks. “That’s all right.” Her big green doe eyes snap to focus on him, and although his face stays trained in its easy relaxation, his heart beats a little faster. “We’re friends. We’re both of a courting age. There’s no need to be bashful.”

Her eyebrows shift into a befuddled expression, trying to pick apart his statement. But she doesn’t ask him what he expects her to…the _what are we? What are we to become? How do you really feel about me?_

“Besides, it may not be an entirely one-way street.” He studies her for the inevitable flash of hope, but something inside of her refuses to unknot, to let go of that tightly wound anxiety in her chest. And she can’t be torn apart if she’s not _really_ happy. He clicks his tongue, pretending to think about it. “I propose that we spend more time together, get to know one another on a more personal level. If, from there, both we and our parents agree that it’s fathomable to nurse a supportive relationship and excellent scholarship standings, we pursue it.”

The way he phrases it makes it sound easy. Noncommittal. Just two good friends spending good old-fashioned time together to see if they’re a good fit. He hasn’t mentioned anything of his _feelings_ , which, if he’s honest, are fairly superficial.

“Really? You’d feel comfortable with that?” Betty’s earnest yet hesitant expression _almost_ makes him feel something…perhaps something akin to endearment. But she’s just another pawn, and meeting her parents under the guise of strengthening their friendship makes sense given the trajectory of his future. They own the local newspaper, and having an in with the local press is always an advantage.

“Yes. I look forward to exploring this with you, Betty Cooper.” And like is expected of him, he slides his hand into hers and smiles at the girl sparkling up at him like they’re in some teen romance novel. The only true comfort he finds is in tracing his fingers over those ridges on her palm. Scars. He can work with scars.


	2. Cooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas gets intimately acquainted with the Cooper clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand this chapter we get a glimpse of angry!Betty and Lucas's sexual desires. So. They're gonna do sexy things. Yeah. Enjoy.

The last couple of days have just sort of floated by for Betty. It’s like she’s been hypnotized or kept under a haze or something. Lucas and her almost never text, save for lightly flirting about classic literature or saying goodnight. They’ve been walking to each other’s classes (time permitting) and just generally chatting a bit more. She still doesn’t feel like she _knows_ him, so it’s a relief when he offers to come to Friday night dinner with her parents. If anyone can dig up what really lies beneath that mask of congeniality she’s so familiar with, it’s her parents.

“Well, with those light eyes, golden locks, sharp outfits, and patented smile, he’ll fit _right_ in to the Cooper clan,” Kevin muses, enjoying her distress a little _too_ much. “Please, Betty. Try not to freak out. He said he likes you.”

“ _Kind_ of,” she winces, still feeling delicate. “He wants to see where this goes, and once he gets a long look at my family, he will want nothing more than the Coopers to be a speck of dust in his rearview mirror.”

Kevin’s reassuring hand falls on her shoulder. “Betty. He’s gorgeous. He’s smart. He should be able to figure out that dealing with Alice and Hal is totally worth the amazing privilege of dating Betty Cooper, Riverdale’s resident darling.”

“Well no one else has.” Kevin falters, recognizing an actual Cooper-level meltdown on the horizon.

“Oh my god, are those _tears_?”

A shaky breath wracks through her ribcage. “My family is _crazy_ , and not in an endearing family sitcom kind of way. Lucas is the first person I’ve met in a _long_ time who I think…understands me, and I want to help him too. I want to be there for him. I’m just worried that my parents will do to him what they did to Jason and Polly.”

“Betty, listen to me…you are not Polly, and Lucas is _not_ Jason. You two are strong, smart, and actually give a crap about your futures. You’re not going to throw it all away so you can park by Sweetwater river and rub parts instead of going to college.”

Flinching at the use of swears, Betty blinks away her tears. Kevin’s right. If anyone can handle the pressure of her family, it’s Lucas. She ought to give him a chance…either to prove himself strong enough to date her or to dash that hope into the dust where it belongs.

 

* * *

 

He spends a few extra minutes pressing his clothes, the steam of the iron wafting back at his face and opening his pores. Well, he doesn’t want them to look too enlarged…so once he’s dressed her quickly runs an ice cube along his face, reexamining his face in the mirror. Thankfully his genes have graced him more than most—although he’ll never admit genetics are the root cause of his flawless skin. He works hard at everything. His grades, his appearance, his skills.

So, he’ll go and meet Betty Cooper’s parents. He usually gets along with adults. Like usual, when he grabs his keys and heads out the front door his father barely even registers that he’s leaving. Since the move they’ve basically lived in tolerable silence with the occasional chime of ice in a glass.

From the flicker at the Cooper’s window, someone’s been awaiting his arrival. With one last glance in the mirror, assuring everything’s in place, Lucas exits the car and makes his way to the front door with a bouquet of flowers.

A woman with highlights and pink lipstick answers the door, sharp blue eyes raking over him just obvious enough to make sure he knows he’s being judged. She must be the one in charge, because her husband is still ambling about behind her in the kitchen.

“Mrs. Cooper, pleasure to meet you. My name is Lucas Ward, and I’m—“

“Betty’s friend.” Her eyes narrow shrewdly, hovering on the flowers.

He lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “These are for you.”

Modestly impressed, he moves into the typical graduation ceremony handshake and handoff. Mrs. Cooper’s handshake is firm, welcoming him inside.

“Thank you, Mrs. Cooper,” he nods, sure to wipe his shoes on the mat when he notes how clean the inside is. Mrs. Cooper notices, makes a little noise to herself as she takes the flowers to the counter whilst wearing her heels and partial skirt-suit. Lucas is starting to see why Betty constantly keeps up the facade of innocent straight-A student. This woman will notice everything…and he’s counting on it.

The soft padding of feet on the stairs alerts him to Betty’s presence, but he’s barely able to offer her panicked, bright eyes any reassurance before Mr. Cooper moves forward to shake his hand.

“Lucas, right?”

“Mr. Cooper, the pleasure is mine.” By Betty’s relieved expression, he must be doing much better than anticipated. Hal seems a little medicated, whether by booze or pills, but the general glaze over his eyes tells him it may be a very slight combination of both. This is a simple man who lives a simple life. Mr. Cooper gestures to the table.

“Please, sit down young man. It appears we have to get to know you a little more.” Betty’s father sounds resigned, like he’s just going through the motions. Still, there’s an edge in his voice, and the way he fires the occasional hard-hitting question Lucas’s way makes him think that maybe he’s been through this before. But not with Betty.

Lucas’s gaze traces back to his blonde classmate as the onslaught of personal questions washes over him. This is more like an interview (interrogation) than a family dinner, but he hasn’t been to many so he’s not sure what else to think about it. They are in the newspaper business after all, so this may be natural to them. Betty shifts in her seat, eyes pleading _I’m so sorry_. But she’s also observing him, waiting to see how he responds. Not one to back down from a challenge, Lucas rolls his shoulders back and continues to make the best impression he can. Straight A’s. Harvard plans. Lawyer father. Traveling.

“There’s no point in doing anything unless you can be the best,” Lucas offers, and then he sees it…that final _spark_ of approval in the Coopers’ eyes. Alice and Hal raise their glasses in a toast.

“I’ll drink to that,” Alice preens, affectionately glancing from Hal to their daughter as if she’s just uncovered some kind of scoop for their little newspaper. Lucas likes the way this is playing out, their easy camaraderie, the way they nod and encourage his aspirations. Even Betty’s smiling shyly across the table, excited _for_ him. Maybe he’ll kiss her later. Like a gentleman, of course. No tongue…but still. That would be the perfect ending to this evening.

“Mrs. Cooper, thank you for this wonderful meal. May I offer my assistance with the dishes?”

“Well aren’t you sweet? No, not tonight. Hal and I will clean up, leaving you and Betty a little time to yourselves.” He flashes Betty a self-congratulatory smile.

Another success, exceeding expectations.

 

* * *

 

“You have a beautiful family.” Lucas’s eyelashes are long, soft, and she’d much rather stare at them than the frame on their mantle. She _hates_ the photo he’s looking at. They’re all standing in the living room. Just moments before the flash, her mother had been pushing her chin up to make her smile better… _no double chin,_ her fingers pinching Betty’s skin until she stood straighter. The photo, like her family, is saccharine. Stepford.

“Yeah. Sure is nice from the outside,” she manages, unable to wholly suppress the sarcasm. His eyes linger on her face, curious, but not judgmental. After all he just went through with her family she’s surprised he’s not just running for the door.

“It looks like you have a sister. Where is she? College?”

She feels like she’s choking on air, unable to get the words out. His eyes flicker over her face, trying to read everything there. “I can’t…I can’t tell you yet. You’ve already been through so much tonight, meeting my family. I mean, we haven’t even been on a real _date_ yet,” she half-laughs, shaking her head.

Somewhat alarmed, Lucas takes her hand. “Betty, I didn’t sit through an interrogation just to run at the first sight of a skeleton in a closet. I’m interested.” His fingers feel rough and calloused where he normally uses that vice-like grip on his pen. How much should she trust him? But that laser-focus intensity of his is on _her_ now, and she feels safe and scared all at once.

“My sister’s name is Polly. She’s…sick, I guess. My parents said that she didn’t really handle her recent breakup well, so she’s staying at a farm for a while.”

“Farm?”

“Some kind of…rehabilitation with animals. Somewhere safe,” she barely breathes. It feels like her heart is being torn open, raw again. “I haven’t seen her in months.”

“What happened to the ex-boyfriend?”

“After the scandal, his parents sent him abroad for the semester. His sister Cheryl is still around, though. She causes enough trouble for the both of them.”

“Cheryl? The girl in red?”

Betty lets out a humorless laugh. That is an accurate way to describe her. “Yeah.”

Lucas nods thoughtfully, spinning the rings on his hand. “Well. No need to sully our night with that kind of talk. Maybe we should get back to that whole _real first date_ segment.” He’s being _kind_. Maybe that’s what she needs, she thinks, as she lets out a small laugh and nestles into his side. Her mother peeks in from the kitchen and _smiles_ at them. It may be the first time her mother’s done that since she was little. Lucas laughs it off, blushing only slightly as they turn away for just a hint of more privacy.

 

* * *

 

“Well, if it isn’t the Boy Who Lived,” Kevin grins, looking rather satisfied with himself.

Yes, Lucas _is_ the one who faced down with the Coopers and walked away with a glowing recommendation. It’s ignorant to assume otherwise. Now that the challenge has been complete (winning over the supposedly overbearing family) he’s not sure how much more he really _wants_ from Betty beyond the occasional lab partner. Sure, he can parade their relationship around the halls of Riverdale to reassert his status as (alpha) the best man on campus, but the distraction of actually having to keep up the charade of dating will take away from his studies. They’ve already spent quite a bit of time together, and most of it has been pleasant, ending in sweet, almost-chaste kisses goodnight and hand-holding.

At the very least he has to take her on a _few_ more dates until he can gracefully exit, claiming they should focus on their mutual separate futures. Or he could break her heart and make her leave the Blue and Gold under his undivided care, should the need arise.

“So? How are you feeling after the inquisition? Did Mama Coop scare you?”

Laughing, Lucas shakes his head. “It would take more than a few personal questions to scare _me_ , Kevin.” He’s been interrogated and given statements often enough where that kind of pressure doesn’t bother him anymore.

“Oh no,” Kevin sighs, eyes hovering somewhere over Lucas’s shoulder. “Speaking of scary.”

Just down the hall, Cheryl and her cronies have sequestered an irritated Betty. It sounds like Cheryl’s upset about her brother not being there for some dance to accept his position as Riverdale royalty.

“If it wasn’t for your crazy-ass whore of a sister my brother would still be here!”

Betty’s body goes rigid, eyes glassy and unblinking. “She’s _not_ crazy.”

“Do you prefer mentally and emotionally challenged? Or should I just tell everyone her freakishness is only confined to the bedroom?”

Betty lurches forward, inches from Cheryl’s face. The crowd, including Cheryl, visibly stutters. “Do _not_ talk about my sister!” Betty leans in closer, just at her ear, and if Lucas hadn’t moved to her side, his heartbeat racing, he wouldn’t be able to hear the next part. “I could _kill_ you Cheryl, but I’d rather make you wish you’d never been born.”

“Got it,” Cheryl whispers, all bravado melted away to reveal a trembling skinny girl. For a second, Lucas isn’t sure if Betty’s actually going to harm the scared girl, so he moves forward and gently tugs on his lady’s wrist. His mask is one of compassion for his almost-girlfriend, but he savors the terrified expression on Cheryl’s face.

“Come on, Betty. She’s not worth it.” Reluctantly, she turns to go with him, letting him lead her away into the privacy of the Blue and Gold. His heart’s pounding in his chest. That was possibly the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. Struggling to normalize his breathing, he tosses Betty further into the room to lock the office door behind them. She braces herself against the desk, rigid with tension, pulsing with it. And _pulsing_ …

Before she can even begin to apologize for her behavior, Lucas launches at her. These are no chaste, gentlemanly, _Leave it to Beaver_ kisses. This is open-mouthed, tongue-prying, heat-seeking molten passion. He wants to consume it, savor the anger she was dripping with just a few seconds ago. Any minor hesitation that this _good girl_ in her tight little sweaters may not be receptive to this kind of passion melts away when her moans turn into hip thrusts against him. When her fingers rake through his hair he bites her lips, angry. He’s going to look like a _mess_ because of her. But when he pulls back to look at her, the anger just seems to turn her on even more, her swollen lips begging for more.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re sexy,” he mutters, mouth seeking hers. It’s so electrifying, this roaring in his ears, the blood swirling to places not-often exercised. He wants to take something from her, make her feel as messy as he does. He palms a breast, squeezing hard until she gasps, mouth dropping open so he can tear into her again.

“Lucas—“

Swallowing, he pulls back, afraid that she doesn’t want this…that she’s going to report him. God, what is he going to do? He can call her crazy. Yeah. Cheryl just said—

Her body tightens against him, pulling him closer. This doesn’t _feel_ like she wants to stop. Voice thick with desire, almost scolding, he asks, “Do you want this, Betty? Do you want to come undone?” At her silence, he moves forward to nip at her neck, the red marks marring her perfect skin. “I know what might make that tension melt away. All you have to do is ask.”

He’s never done this before…not really. And while of course he wants to be the best, he’s done enough research and read enough books where he thinks he can get the (most likely) virginal Betty Cooper to cry out at his expertise. He can get her to do whatever he wants, and the thought makes him painfully hard.

“Lucas, I—we’re at school.”

“Nobody can get in,” he assures her, kissing the spot right where her collar meets her shoulder. She shivers, clutching a fistful of his button-down shirt. “I want to make you come, Betty. Will you let me do that?”

Nodding, she gives him a look at that hooks into his own dark desires and pulls something taught inside of him.

“Say it.”

“I…want you to make me come.”

He unbuttons the top of her jeans, slipping his hand under her layers into the warm wetness greeting him there. Practically bursting with the euphoria of newfound control, he runs an exploratory finger along her slit.

“Oh, Lucas,” she hisses, clutching into his shoulders. The bite of her nails drives him crazy, incensing him to slide two fingers into her tight channel. He’s _inside_ of her, he thinks wildly. His fingers pump and curl into her erratically, Betty barely able to stand at the intensity. Switching gears, he swirls his fingers along the little nub of nerves and watches with fascination as her eyes roll back into her head before she flutters them shut at the sensation. He wants to fuck her like this for hours, making this rigid, tight girl-next-door moan his name. His fingers grind into her, finding the places that make her rock against him, her thighs accidentally rubbing against his thickened cock under his slacks.

“Fuck,” she hisses again, and the foul outcry of this normally demure girl makes Lucas grin. He _is_ destroying her…this dark little princess.

The warning bell yanks them out of their reverie, and he withdraws his fingers as if he’s been woken from a dream. Heart beating wildly, he looks at the clock. Some semblance of restraint is slowly flooding back over him. “We have to get to class.” Betty flounders against him, clearly finding it difficult to walk or do anything besides rut against him. Oh, she still smells like arousal. What Lucas wouldn’t give to be able to rub one out in the bathroom stall right before class, using the evidence of her desire to lube himself up. Maybe he will, after dropping his books off and securing that he won’t get a tardy. 

“Come on,” he orders, helping her straighten up before smoothing his own hair. His eyes linger on the markings he’s left on her neck, the way her eyes are swirling with something dark and heady. She’s _beautiful_. Far more beautiful than the girls on the internet…than anyone. And she could be his. She _is_ his. But not yet. He wants to stake his claim in her…tonight, if not another night soon.

“Sorry to leave you wanting,” he smirks, and although he _is_ sorry he didn’t get to see her fully release, he does like the way her frazzled frustration paints her neck and cheeks. “Maybe after school or during lunch we can finish what we started.”

Nodding mutely, Betty straightens herself and makes her way for the door. Before she can open it, Lucas pulls her back for a lingering, promising kiss.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, and swears he can feel Betty purr at him in thanks.

 

* * *

 

Trembling, Betty leads Lucas into her room. After the embarrassment of freaking out on Cheryl and then being denied an orgasm in the Blue and Gold, she’s not really sure where they stand. Sure, Lucas has been her sort-of boyfriend the past few weeks, and yes they’ve been on a few dates, but _why did she let him put his hand down her pants?_

Because she wanted him to, just like she wanted to shave Cheryl’s head and shove her into a locker earlier.

Heart racing, Betty walks over to the bed and sits, fully aware that Lucas is casually unbuttoning his shirt.

“Your parents won’t be home until 7pm, is that correct?” he clarifies, a playful glint in his eye.

“Yes. But…Lucas, aren’t you afraid we’re moving a little too fast?”

He freezes, looking panicked, and Betty wonders if he isn’t just a little bit like Jason Blossom. Did he just pretend to be nice and a gentleman so he could get her into bed? Would she stop him at this point even if he did? Their last few dates have been tame, if nice.

“Do _you_ think we’re going too fast?”

Her shoulders lift in a silent shrug. It’s as noncommittal as she can be. She just wants an honest answer. Taking a deep breath, Lucas sits next to her, always thinking through exactly what he wants to say. “Well, Betty…the truth is…I wasn’t so sure about this relationship either when it first began. You know how I feel about my studies, my future, and I wouldn’t want anything to complicate that.” She nods, feeling like a stone is lodged in her throat. Is he going to tell her he plans on breaking it off as soon as the ACTs come up? College? But they can _play around_ for now?

“But,” he continues, drawing her out of planning the rest of their conversation, “After getting to know you, your family, and seeing how you were able to stand up for yourself and really _go after what you want_ …I’m convinced that any relationship between us would have to be… _thorough_.” He swallows hard, his gaze flickering from her lips to her eyes. Heat flares up along the back of her neck. When she doesn’t say anything, he continues, hand gently warming the top of her thigh through her jeans. “I don’t usually _let_ people get this close to me, and I certainly don’t get this close to them. I hate feeling like people have the power—like they can _affect_ me. I like to be in control, and the easiest way to do that is not to get too close.” Strange word choice, even as he shifts closer. “But this…I want to get close, Betty Cooper. I’ve seen something dark in you, something I recognize in myself, and I want to know it…intimately.”

Heart stuttering, she breathes deeply, hoping it’s not obvious how turned on she is. They’re mirrors of each other really. Preppy, overambitious, genial. Lucas is a little sharper around the edges, his jaw more angular, his gait more confident. She wishes she could be that way, and wishes that he could learn to trust people a little more, let his guard down once in a while. But maybe that’s how he avoids getting hurt. And Betty is so sick of getting hurt. His thumb traces gentle circles on her thigh, and she has to suppress a groan before gasping out, “What happens after?”

His mouth quirks up in a smirk. “You mean after…this? We do it again. As many times as it takes to become experts in one another. We’re the best students at Riverdale, Betty. We deserve this.”

The arousal twists into disappointment, shame. “Is that all this is, Lucas? Sexualizing the valedictorians?”

Clearly getting frustrated, Lucas licks his upper lip. “No. I don’t—I’m not interested in doing this because you’re…pure, and smart or whatever. I don’t _know_ where this fits into my plan, because it didn’t. Normally the only thing I think about is Harvard.”

“I’ve seen your assignments,” Betty sighs, nodding. Mr. Butler usually has the unsavory job of editing Lucas’s overwritten articles, and she’s seen the way Lucas gets defensive, declaring that _real_ publications and scholastic journals endorse long-form. They finally had to impose a maximum word count and number of articles per issue just to contain his overachieving tendencies. “But Lucas, having a relationship isn’t about _being_ the best. It’s about connecting with another person—supporting them, helping each other grow and learn and just _enjoy life_. Is that something you think we’re ready for?”

For a second she thinks he’s going to kill her, lash out like he did at Mr. Butler about his article being pushed below the fold. But instead he harnesses that darkness and whispers, “Yes, Betty. I want to _help_ you.”

She’s not really sure what to say, only aware of his other hand reaching up and cupping her face, smoothing her lips until he moves forward to capture them with his own. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures her, forehead nuzzling her own. “But rest assured, second to Harvard, my focus is all on you. Us.”

Something in her is screaming to run away, to push him off the bed and close her sweater tight around her chest. She should be doing homework, not some boy who moved here who barely even knows her. But something else in her is desperate…longing for this boy who _admires_ the angrier parts of her along with the ambitious, sweeter ones.

“I…” she closes her eyes tight, letting her hand decide for her when she pulls open his shirt instead of closing her own, seeking heat along his neck.

“Betty,” he breathes, coming in for another kiss. She pulls him horizontal on top of her. It’s about time she has a _normal_ teenage experience, and after being embarrassed into initiating their first kiss and always being the one to linger on the others, it’s nice to feel like he actually _wants_ her for a change. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” His kisses travel down her jawline, hand climbing up her sides to graze her breasts.

Everything’s _changed_ so quickly. Archie went from her “relationship goal” to a speck in the background. Lucas is this brilliant…ever-changing light, and now that he’s shining on her…

His fingers creep under her shirt, waiting for her to say anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to. She _can’t_. With a pinch, he twists her nipples to attention. The sensation jolts straight down to her hips, lifting them off the bed.

“How much do you want me?” he demands.

“So much,” she pants, unsure what else to say as he kneads her breasts in his palms. For the first time since she’s known him, his hair actually looks like it’s falling out of place. It looks sexy there, a slight sheen of sweat dampening whatever gel he uses. But she doesn’t just want to be _played_ with. “Wait, sit back.” Shaking with anticipation, he does, although she can tell he’s getting anxious, fiddling with his ring now that he doesn’t have anything else to hold.

Finally, Betty fulfills one of her fantasies and unbuttons the rest of Lucas’s shirt, almost disappointed that there’s an undershirt beneath it. “Off,” she motions, and he rips both off from behind, suppressing the urge to carefully fold the discarded clothing. Oh, the smooth plains of his chest are absolutely lovely. It’s a wonder and a relief that he cares so much about his appearance as well as his brains, because every inch of his muscle under her palms makes her want more. She catches him watching her with a self-satisfied expression. Okay, yes, she likes what she sees. Sending him a wry smile, she lifts her shirt and sweater off, wrestling her bra off at his wide-eyed excitement.

As they tackle each other back into the bed for more heated, topless making out, Betty can feel him grinding out some friction against her center. She’s not sure if they’ll go all the way tonight, but whatever _this_ is feels _amazing._

 

* * *

 

In the next coming weeks Lucas studies seduction just as hard as he does everything else. They go on sweet little dates to the Bijou where he buys Betty popcorn and opens her door, they hold hands and share milkshakes at Pop’s to the admiration and envy of everyone else around. They discourse over Shakespeare and Toni Morrison, explore museums in the area, and part amicably when it comes time to study. By all means, he’s fairly certain that this is what less intelligent people call _love_. It’s dating, at least. They’ve become Riverdale’s darlings, the golden couple. Even Mr. Butler can’t help but comment on how cute he finds it, and how glad he is to see Lucas finally _relax_ (whatever that means).

On the days Betty’s parents work late at the Register or Lucas’s father is off at a business meeting, they waste no time experimenting in what ways they can make each other orgasm. The mind-numbing, hip-stuttering blast of euphoria really clears his head…Betty’s too, if her expression is any indication. Afterwards, they lay in a sweaty haze of bliss until pecking each other on the lips and cleaning up. Oddly enough, he always enjoys the aftercare with Betty. Brushing their teeth, putting themselves back together as if they hadn’t just fallen apart. Watching her smooth her ponytail back into position is fascinating…and sometimes he’ll deliberately muss her hair during foreplay just so he can watch her smooth it into place later. She’s so focused, so untouchable in those moments.

Their first time with typical penetration isn’t _perfect_ by his standards. They are safe, obviously. She’s uncomfortable, as had been expected. He doesn’t last as long as either of them would like, but short of getting a time machine there’s nothing he can do about that. He's too weary, sated, and stunned to be angry at the performance. Afterwards, he gets her some tea and rubs her feet until that blissful smile is back on her face directed at him.

“You’re the best boyfriend,” she smiles, and he can’t help but light up in return.

“Is that what I am?”Her _boyfriend_. The thought makes him laugh. Not to mention he’s the _best_.

“I’m so glad you came to Riverdale.”

Something warm hums in his chest. “So am I, Betty. So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how many of you have actually watched Dismissed, but I like to think that Lucas COULD form a real connection with Betty, he's just so beyond messed up that it's not the adorable relationship that we're used to her being in. It's about status and control and image. There's still some amount of endearment, and now lust once he recognizes how similar they really could be. I also presume he's going to purposely get her riled up once he notices how intense she takes down Miss Queen Bee


	3. Permanence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverdale may be too small a pond for the newly anointed golden couple of Lucas Ward and Betty Cooper. Lucas contemplates breaking out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Ward doesn't have a first name in the movie so I decided to name him Charles in honor of the crazy shenanigans of the Cooper family.

He’s been so excited about their little trysts that when she slows down the action in her bedroom he feels like she’s _punishing_ him.

“What?” he asks, anger lacing his tone.

Embarrassed, she bites her lip. He hates it when she does that, if only because it makes those little bumpy ridges. He wants to suck the indentations out of her. “I’m…um…I’m not able to do _that_ today.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on my period.”

The words sort of bounce off his chest, falling flat on the floor. “Oh.” Well it’s not like he can say anything to _that_. He’d really been counting on this to clear his head. Part of him wonders if blood would make a decent lubricant, but the smell would be off-putting enough to taint the experience.

“But…I can try something else.” He watches her hesitantly as she opens the rest of his shirt, kissing him slowly.

“Betty, you’re making me aroused,” he warns, aware of how warm and giving her body is.

“I know,” she grins, and Lucas feels blood rush to his dick as soon as she gets on her knees. Unzipping his slacks, Betty kisses down his chest until she’s able to carefully lift his engorged penis to her lips.

_Oh_.

Her tongue flickers tentatively against the tip, making him want to kick out and groan. The sucking is _much_ better. Almost too good. For a second he eyes her warily. Where would she have learned how to suck cock like this? Was there someone else? He’ll _kill_ him.

“Are you okay?” she asks, suddenly pulling away with a worried expression.

He unsuccessfully tries to keep the accusation out of his tone. “Where did you learn to do this Betty? Because it certainly wasn’t with me.”

“Well, I may have asked Kevin for a few tips,” she blushes, looking sheepish. “I wanted to surprise you. I hope it’s…pleasurable.”

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, breaking up the anxiety there. “More than satisfactory, Betty. Glad to know you’re thinking of me. Now let me guide you the rest of the way.”

Her mouth slips back over him, and as much as he wants to watch her pretty golden head bobbing along his dick along with her hand, the overstimulation of her twists and sucks makes his eyes flutter closed. That’s it. That’s the blank state of _oh fuck_ he’s been searching for. Fisting her hair, he fucks into her mouth, loving the wet sounds escaping her. She gags, coughing and spitting on him, and for some reason even _that_ turns him on. And he knows that it’s sick, but he just wants to bury himself in her and make everything else disappear.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not _quite_ sorry, and she seems to know it. But still, she lowers her mouth to him again.

From the mirror in the corner of her room he can watch their reflection. Her head bobs sensually between his thighs, her eyes fluttering prettily each time she goes too deep. He leans back on his hands, head tossed back in abandon with this shirt strewn halfway off. To his satisfaction, they make a _very_ pretty picture. Multiple photos of her friends frame her mirror, but one of him and her in their Sunday best taken by the Coopers before a dinner date stands larger than the rest. He’s the newest, and he’s already the most important (maybe). Part of him wants to pluck every single other photo away until there is nothing left but her and him.

“I love you, Betty.”

Her mouth leaves him, stunned doe eyes unaware of the cold longing rushing against his skin. “You what?”

“I—nothing. Just finish up.”

“You…” Shaking her head, she does as she’s told, letting his fingers massage her back into the tempo. Her moan reverberates around him, drawing out the orgasm until she’s practically choking on his seed.

He’s too tired to look at her, too scared to see the curiosity on her face. Fuck. He was supposed to clear his head, not profess _love_ or anything inane like that. Maybe these orgasms were clearing his head of any rational thought at all.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and he’s vaguely aware of her using the washroom and rinsing out her mouth. Carefully, she slides back into bed with him, pushing back until her hand rests on his bare chest and her head lays on his shoulder.

His chest heaves, and he wants to throw up. This is it. This is where it ends. This is where he has to—

“So, was that a pre-orgasm declaration or…do you really love me?” she asks.

Numbness tingles through his body, and he simply defocuses on the mirror in the corner. “I honestly don’t know.” This _should_ make him angry, but right now he feels empty, hollow, ready to be filled up.

Shifting against him, she tries to read his expression, letting them both try to find the right words. “Love seems…complicated…for me, too. I mean, you’ve met my parents. They have the weirdest relationship I’ve ever seen. I’ve only ever had a schoolgirl crush on you and Archie.” The redhead’s name slices across him like a knife to the chest. He’s about to get up and hurl something across the room, grenade that ginger moron’s room for daring to live across the street as Betty. Her sweet voice cuts off his violent fantasy. “But whatever you and I have…it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. It’s like…I’m finally able to be _myself_ , more than I ever have before. And—I don’t know. Maybe I love you too.”

Anger and relief swirl inside of him, choking out anything else. Feeling his jaw click with uncertainty, he pulls her closer against him. “Oh Betty, you’re so sweet.”

 

* * *

 

The next few days feel like a blur. He can’t do anything besides work on projects and smile at Betty and her family, pretending nothing’s wrong. Mrs. Cooper (although she insists he can use their first names) keeps smiling at him like she knows something, and Lucas hates that. She casually mentions meeting his father, but he lies and says he’s out of town so they offer to give him some food, and although he appreciates the gesture he also resents it. He knows how to cook for himself, he’s been doing it for years. Although _some_ of his merits were exaggerated, cooking wasn’t one of them.

Later that night he fucks Betty’s mouth, determined not to say anything through his orgasm. He doesn’t, only muttering, “ _Fuck_ ” as her hands try to brace against his hips. The simple sentiment echoes his inner thoughts, making him panic into thinking maybe his other pre-orgasm utterance was no accident either.

The journey to her orgasm is distracting. He tries to rub one out of her as quickly as possible, aware that her passage is only recently clear so his mouth isn’t going anywhere near that.

“Too hard,” she whispers, foot thumping on the bedspread. “I’m still sore.”

“I told you to be quiet,” he demands against her neck, circling against her clit a little more forcefully. Her eyes squeeze shut in protest, trying to keep her thighs from closing on his hand. It’s too much, and his wrist gets tired before she gets there. Annoyed, he switches hands and quietly berates her, hoping he can get her to admit some kind of weakness in her own orgasm. But all he’s getting are moans and thrashes. “I said be quiet. What do I have to do? Thrust my cock into that pretty little mouth again to shut you up?” Her eyes flash open, wild. She ruts shamelessly against his hand.

_Fuck_ , he thinks. Even if she doesn’t confess tonight, he’s going to need release again, whether by his own hand at home or by ramming into her right now. They’re definitely going to have to experiment with gags. And maybe spankings. But this still doesn’t help him with the stupid confession lurking just behind every sentence and lingering stare.

 

* * *

 

When it’s revealed that Betty’s story will be _above_ the fold, he scowls but doesn’t bother with the argument Mr. Butler’s already guarding himself against.

“Your article’s amazing, Lucas,” Betty assures him, squeezing his arm. “Front page.”

_Those_ words don’t matter right now, although he _will_ be having words with Mr. Butler about their next issue.

_Maybe I love you too._

The words keep tumbling around in his head, rubbing his brain raw.

“I’m going to stay after…talk to Mr. Butler.”

“Okay, but,” she hesitates, looking back and forth between them. “This isn’t about the article placement, is it?”

Lucas’s arm slaps down onto the desk, as if he needs _another_ thing to be mad over. “No, _Betty_ , it isn’t about your gold star above-the-fold article on vandalism, okay?”

A little surprised, she scoots back in her chair. “O-okay. I’ll see you after school.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He shoves a hand through his hair and moves back, staring at her until she takes the hint and exits the room. She’s probably irritated, but he’s too riled unto care right now. Mr. Butler, although generally a supportive influence, is a little wary of Lucas. Betty’s told him it’s because he can come off as a little intense, even if they are his favorite students.

“Lucas, what can I help you with?” their state-school-educated teacher asks, and Lucas has to resist rolling his eyes at the amiable professionalism he normally appreciates. This is a small town man, but he seems _happy_ with his life—with his wife, his child. He can even cheerfully put up with the unending dreariness of being a teacher in a small-town public high school.

“Mr. Butler…when…how did you know you were in love with your wife?”

“Uh—what?”

Does this man not understand basic questions? “I mean, your child—usually they say you know you love them the first time you hold them in your arms or something. But your partner, your bond—when did you know that she’d be the one you shared your passions with? And please, spare me the ideation of love at first sight.”

Mr. Butler’s face lights up in surprise. “Oh! Is this—is this about Betty? Are you and her—”

“We’re seeing each other, yes. Have been for some time.” Lucas cuts him off just so they can get to the point quicker. “And now we’re at the point where…I’m trying to figure out where exactly _she_ and Riverdale fit into my plans.”

“Love doesn’t always follow a plan,” Mr. Butler faux-reasons, looking a little smug.

“It wreaks havoc on them, I know. So do I end it? Or do I just keep going until things go wrong? Am I supposed to settle for this small town girl instead of going for a future, the way that you did?”

Mr. Butler blinks, clearly taken aback. Oh.

“You’re very happy, I know. I’m sorry, I’m just…trying to piece together where to go from here.”

“Lucas, I think you have to decide what having a future means to you. I’m still able to pursue my writing and a professorship while taking care of my beautiful family because I chose to settle down with my wife in a town that really doesn’t cost too much to live in. We’re happy, and I’d make that choice ten thousand times over because I love her and our child. Without them, I wouldn’t _have_ a future I look forward to. Knowing that they’re a part of my future makes me feel safe in a way that moving to New York on my own as a college kid never would have.”

“So loving someone is safe?”

“N—no, it’s actually kind of a risk in some ways,” Mr. Butler cocks his head, going into philosophical mode. “But once you’re in it _with_ the other person, you know that as long as you love each other, you’ll _have_ a future with someone who cares about you.”

Sputtering, Lucas shakes his head. “Love a romanticized version of infatuation. It can end at any time, and it certainly doesn’t guarantee a safe future.” His parents’ _love_ certainly hadn’t saved his mother, and thankfully his father had stayed far away from the prospect of anything similar since her death. The last thing Lucas needed to deal with was some floozy trying to take their family money.

“Whoa,” Mr. Butler laughs, surprised, and Lucas kind of wants to punish him for it. “Kinda jumping the gun there, huh? Jealousy, hatred, misunderstandings—that’s what wreaks havoc on plans, on relationships. Not love. Love is what keeps us hopeful when everything else goes wrong. My wife is my greatest ally and best friend. I knew I wanted to be with her when even on the bad days, the person I wanted to light up the world with was her. Relationships are hard work, but they’re worth every second of it. They make you a better version of yourself.”

The very _idea_ is ridiculous. As if any romantic pairings had made each other better. Romeo and Juliet should’ve just slept with each other and moved on. Yes, their family’s hatred is what tore them apart, but she could have just married Paris, led a successful life, and—

The unmistakable snap of plastic draws his attention to the mechanical pencil in his hands, the pocket-holder accessory now dangling precariously to the side. Well.

To be honest, if he was Romeo, and Betty was Juliet, and she slept with him and then got together that ignoramus Archie (Paris) he would _lose his fucking mind_. She was _his_. His first. Her first. She was his number two, his…best friend, no matter how unnecessary that seems.

Betty actually _means_ it when she’s somebody friend. She listens for hours to Kevin’s inane pining and gossip. She pretends that Archie isn’t a mediocre musician for the sake of his wobbly self-esteem, yet actually has constructive criticism and helps them be better versions of themselves. She’s an amazing editor. She respects Lucas’s writing, his aesthetic, his unusual way of speaking. And she can kill. Lucas knows she has that fire burning in her the same way he has it burning in him. They can do _anything_ to get what they deserve.

But the question still remains if he _loves_ her…if that’s even something that _exists_. It just seems so superficial. It doesn’t mean she’s going to stay, or that he’s going to stay. Some flippant words and a single emotional verb don’t mean _anything_ to him or to Harvard.

Right?

Mr. Butler’s still prattling away, big beaming smile on his face like he set Betty and Lucas up from the start. “If you think what you and Betty have is _real_ or _special_ , don’t be afraid to tell her. Sure, you’re only teens, and it may not last forever but that doesn’t devalue the way you feel. It’s no shame to treasure someone…and for what it’s worth, I think Betty’s a great gal. You two make a great team.”

Treasure her…

“Thank you, Mr. Butler. I think I know what to do.”

Lucas swerves out of the office and heads straight for the house.

He spends hours at his desk, flinging out pieces of paper across the desk as he scribbles furiously, lips stained with ink from chewing on his pens. He has to find the _words_.

 

_I treasure you._

 

It’s nearly seven o’clock by the time Betty meets makes it to the gazebo. Lucas looks frazzled, which is fairly rare to witness. A practiced smile lights up his face when he sees her, making her feel just a little bit better about neglecting her homework for an hour. Betty hops up to join Lucas, nervously tugging at her sweater. Although she hasn’t changed her fashion _much_ since they’ve started dating, he does have the tendency to make her feel underdressed. Lately her mother’s been pushing her to practically _coordinate_ with him, like they’re some catalogue couple instead of normal high schoolers who happen to like each other.

“Betty. I—I need you to read something. You’re a great editor and I want to get your input.” He swipes his hands on the back of his pants, handing her an envelope with a lovely folded piece of stationary.

“Okay,” she reassures him, sitting on the bench nearby. As her fingers unfold, she glances up at him a little warily, aware of the way he’s biting his lip, pushing his hair back. It’s like he’s reached a level of nervousness beyond messing with his rings. “Are you okay? Do you want to join me?”

“Just read it,” he demands a little forcefully, so Betty purses her lips and looks down. This better be an apology for the rude way he treated her at the Blue and Gold, although his current attitude isn’t helping anything. Normally he only calms down with praise or gentle reaffirmations, but right now she has to read. As her eyes scan the page, she realizes this is much more than an apology or essay.

It’s a love letter.

No one’s ever written her a love letter. She barely gotten Valentine’s cards past the age of eight. And Lucas…his way with _words_ …even the ones he’s borrowed from famous love letters…this is _amazing_.

Eyes dancing, heart aflame, she looks back up at him.

“Do you like it?” He’s gnawing on his lip, rocking back and forth anxiously.

“Lucas…I _love_ it.”

The relief is palpable. He moves across the gazebo quickly, laughing as the stress melts away. She stands, enjoying the _real_ smile, the ones she’s been seeing a little more often lately, and kisses him sweetly on the mouth.

“I love it. I love _you_.”

They practically melt back into each other’s embrace, smothering their cheeks and lips with sweet little kisses. She stays close, her nose buried in his shoulder to keep it warm. So _this_ is why he’d been acting so strange. She doesn’t even know if she means it, but she’s just so filled with elation that it makes _sense_. Of course she loves him. He’s her _boyfriend_. He cares for her, challenges her, inspires her. How could she not?

“I want to know _all_ of you,” she murmurs, pleased.

When she feels wetness against her neck, everything slows down.

“Lucas?”

The moist chill could be from his eyes or his open-mouthed labored breathing. His hands tighten on her back, digging in until it’s almost painful.

His voice is quiet, almost wheezing with strain. “No. This is not _normal_ , Betty…for me. I don’t…get attached, and it’s only a matter of time before we have to leave.”

“What? Why?” Struggling against his grip, she tries to pull back to look at him. Strained, his gaze seems to be pleading for her. Her hands instinctively cup the side of his face, trying to smooth away the worry there. “Is it your dad’s job? Did you hear anything?”

“No. No, it’s just—“ he breaks off, looking away as he holds back whatever emotion was leaking out of him before. _No._ He’s locking it away from her. Her fingers grasp at his shoulders, caress his face, trying to get him back. The hardness in his eyes is back, the Stepford expressions.

“I just want you to be real with me,” she pleads. “Lucas, we can work through anything, we just need to communicate.”

“I _did_ communicate, with the _letter_ ,” Lucas says tightly, hands pulling her wrists away from him. “Is that not _enough_ for you?” She feels like she’s being pried off like sticky gum on the bottom of his shoe. Is he _playing_ her right now?

“No, just a second ago you said that you loved me. That’s _everything_. I mean, it’s wonderful. I just don’t understand why you’re pushing me away. Talk to me.” She feels helpless, even more so now that tears are stinging her eyes, Lucas physically untangling from her embrace.

His gaze is hard, distant when it finally raises to meet her again. “Someone like me is bound to outgrow a small pond, a small _place_ like Riverdale. It’s only a matter of time before we move beyond it.”

Fear yanks away any joy she just had from the letter. Is he saying he’s going to move beyond _her?_ “Do you and your dad want to leave?”

“It’s not a matter of wanting to, it’s a matter of needing to. Do you think a town like this…writing for the Blue and Gold…maybe eventually the Register…would be _enough_ for me? Is it enough for _you_?”

She knows what he’s asking, but it can’t help but feel like he’s saying _she’s_ not enough for him. Because it _is_ enough for her. He studies her, watching the emotion well on her face. “I mean, I want to go away to college, to Columbia, but—“

“Harvard doesn’t _care_ about Riverdale High.” How does he do that? Shift into something so _unemotional_ so quickly? “There’s no debate team. No chess club. _Nothing_ competitive outside of football and _cheerleading_. Is that really what you want to be your legacy? Do you think kids get scholarships for writing about low-tier gang activity? No. It’s _safe_ , Betty. No one ever got ahead without taking some calculated risks, and that has to go beyond one summer internship meeting some childhood hero. If you were smart, you’d get out of this town, because I’m certainly not going to attach myself to someone whose small-town life and doe-eyes are going to weigh me down.”

Before she can so much as protest, he’s removed her hands entirely, quickly wiping his mouth and heading down the street.

“Lucas!” She feels like she’s slipping. “ _Lucas!_ ”

But he keeps walking, ripping something open inside of her.

 

 

He hasn’t felt rage this pure singing in his veins in a _while_. But here he is, ready to make amends and smile for her family at the door, only to find that she’s actually _out with the boys_. How grossly typical. The _second_ he turns his back.

Hal doesn’t look like he knows what to do with him, so he just open the door wider and gestures inside. “Please, come in and wait for her, Lucas. Curfew isn’t too far away, and you know Betty is never late.”

“I’d hate to intrude.” He tries to keep the panic out of his voice, barely even registering how quickly he’s spinning the rings on his fingers.

“It’s no trouble at all. Please, I’ll get you a drink. We can talk about your future. I’m interested in those articles you’ve been writing at the Blue and Gold. I might actually have a job for you.”

Ears burning with pride, Lucas manages a curt nod. “Yes, well, I suppose I could come in for a few minutes.” It might even give him time to peruse the diary she keeps locked away.

 

 

“The boy is emotionally constipated, Betty,” Kevin sighs dramatically.

Archie shivers, an arm delicately laying across the back of the booth. “He’s _weird_. I dunno, he’s always given me bad vibes.”

“Is it his vocabulary?” Kevin’s dry humor almost elicits a laugh from the stricken girl across from him.

“No, something’s just _off_ about him. It’s like the lights are on but nobody’s home. Who writes novels in lieu of essays? I mean, he chilled out a _little_ once Betty came into the picture, but I always get the feeling he’s being fake. He’s got that same dead-eye that Dilton does when he talks about the inevitable end of the world or something.”

“Yeah, Lucas is weird, but what if he’s right?” Her brows knit together, trying to work everything out. “I mean, he wants to go to Harvard. When’s the last time anyone who graduated from Riverdale went to an Ivy League school?” The boys sit in silence, throats tight with the answer. “He should leave. He deserves better than this. I mean, he’s worked so hard. Who am I to stop him?”

“Betty,” Kevin’s hand reaches for hers. “You sweet little thing, the boy just confessed he _loved_ you and then systematically insulted your hometown. I’d say he has intimacy issues. Maybe he needs to sort that out before moving and starting over _again_ just to get to his precious Ivy League school. He’s only a sophomore. Shouldn’t he be enjoying life a little bit more before becoming debate champion for the Ivy League?”

“So what, he’s just supposed to waste time playing around with Betty or starting a club until he finds time to start over at some fancy boarding school? I don’t think so.” Archie’s leaning forward as if he’s going to smash the table in lieu of the loser stringing along his best friend. “Betty should be the one enjoying herself, not tending to some sociopath who writes her love letters.”

Betty scowls in shock. “Archie!”

“Harsh,” Kevin grins. “And I’m loving it. Although, Betty, while Lucas can be a little too intense for his own good, I also think you’re the only person who’s ever been able to loosen him up. I say go on a recon mission to his house. Talk to him. I know he’s the Missing Cooper of your parents’ dreams, but see if he’s the missing link in yours. I mean, how do _you_ see this relationship playing out? And try not to make the decision based on his dick,” Kevin winks, earning a disgusted protest from Archie.

 

* * *

 

The knock at his door startles him out of his reverie. With dissatisfaction, he realizes that he misspelled the last word of his essay. Surprisingly, he hears his _father_ answer the door in perhaps the first _useful_ thing he’s done around the house in months.

“You look a little old to be a girl scout.”

_God, is that his best line?_

“Actually, Mr. Ward, my name is Betty Cooper. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I brought these for your son, Lucas? I know he’s going to be studying all day so I thought he could use a—“

Before she can say anything else, Lucas thunders down the stairs and glares at his father hard enough for him to take a step back. Betty’s face lights up on him, not quite smiling when she catches the stormy look on his face.

“Betty. Dad.” The warning tone is just barely there, but his father and him have an _understanding_ when it comes to his personal life.

Charlie Ward’s smarmy lawyer gruffness kicks in, gut sticking out as he opens the door further for the blonde girl. “Seems like your little girlfriend came here to drop off some snacks. Think it’d be nice if you invited her in.”

Cricking his neck, Lucas turns back to the hesitant blonde in the doorway. “Betty, would you like to come inside?”

Sensing tension, she jostles her packages, at which point he notices the wrapped gift and tupperware in her hands. “Thank you, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“What’s that?” he asks abruptly. When she falters, he reaches a hand out to help her.

“A little rude, don’t you think, Luke?” Barely suppressed loathing boils under his skin, shooting his father a pointed look. “Why don’t you at least offer to show her around the house?”

“She’s seen it,” he answers rather shortly, and it pains him to note the dawning realization on Betty’s face that maybe she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be witnessing this.

Easing the tension, his father gestures for her to come further in the house. “Well, sorry I missed you. I tend to be on a lot of business trips these days. A lawyer’s work is never done. Always people doing crimes, not as many doing time, if I play my cards right.”

Betty blinks politely. “So…have you been enjoying Riverdale? My understanding with Lucas is—“

“Yeeeah we have to move around a lot. You know how it is.” His father’s eyes take on the hardened quality not often found without his usual glaze of whiskey.

Betty swallows, voice wavering only slightly. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. My family’s lived in Riverdale my whole life. In fact, maybe—“ her eyes flicker questioningly to Lucas, who doesn’t know what she’s asking so he remains as neutral as possible while prickling in the presence of his father. She continues anyway. “Maybe you’d like to have dinner with my parents, a sort of belated welcome to the neighborhood?”

Charlie Ward laughs brusquely, and Lucas begrudgingly remembers why he’s so loathe to laugh out loud himself. If he’s even a hint as annoying as his father, he’ll suppress the sound until the day he dies. His _friends_ manage a few chuckles here and there. Betty often earns a smirk. But this sound— _this_ is disgusting.

“Really? How serious are you with this Betty?” his father asks, eyebrows raised. “Maybe we’ll actually get to stay in one place for a while, huh?”

Betty _reacts_ to that, shooting Lucas a surprised glance before he can effectively pull her inside and shoo away his father. “If your work _allows_ it. I’ll help you with your things, Betty, but you can’t stay long. I’m working on an article and we have a prior engagement for dinner tonight.”

“No, Betty, stay! You can stay for dinner. It’ll give me some time to prep you if you’re in it for the long haul with this one,” he winks, and Lucas wants to throttle him, can’t wait until he’s 18 to get away from this careless parental figure. Nobody would miss him, and technically they have enough in their bank account to last for a while. But right now Lucas can’t afford to go into the foster care system. It’s better to have an empty house where he can focus. Maybe Betty can stay, making tea and journaling in the background, helping him cook and do the dishes before cuddling in at night.

It’s the first time he’s _really_ thought about anything domestic. Usually his fantasies are professional or material. Rolling up to a skyscraper in a Bentley, wearing crisp, clean suits with his own office. Basking in the praise of his colleagues as profits continue to go up. Book signings.

Imagining quietly working in his room or office while Betty comes in and rubs his shoulders for a few seconds has only been a recent development. He imagines future dinners with her family, gossiping about the town. Kissing her goodnight…long, lingering nights and fast bursts of passion throughout the day.

It’s…romantic. Domestic. Too early at this stage of his career. It’s not like people his age can be considering marriage or anything like that. Then again, it would add another ring to his growing collection. Come to think of it—it might help her with the little palm problem she seems to have.

“I, um, I got you something,” she says quietly once they’re in the sanctity of his room. He closes and locks the door behind them, aware that it’s a luxury in his home compared to the Cooper’s where the door has to stay open at all times when she has guests, even if they have warmed to him.

“I can see that.”

He sits on the bed, trying to calm down until the crinkling paper (when was the last time he received a _present_ ) peels away to reveal a sleek dark picture frame, the kind he’s always imagined would sit on his desk. Inside the frame is a picture Kevin had taken of them, Betty beaming at him while he smiles privately at something she just said. Behind it lies another accordion-style frame set with various pictures of their so-called friends from Riverdale, a photo of him, Betty, and the Coopers, a few frames left open with a note (for whomever he chooses to fill). He’s a part of their family. _Her_ family.

“This is…”

“A memento. Of your time here.”

He sits quietly, unsure of what to say, how to process this.

“Even if you’re leaving, Lucas…I just wanted to let you know that the people here do care about you. Looking at photos of my friends and family in the morning always gives me a little boost of inspiration. I thought maybe if you kept a part of us with you…maybe you’d feel the same.”

Wordlessly, Lucas places the frames on his desk and moves forward. He hears her little intake of breath as his hands cup the back of her head just under the ponytail, and swallows their silence in a long, lingering kiss. He can feel the way she relaxes under his touch, not all the way, not as much as he wants, but enough where her own hands reach and clasp his. The tang of metal and flesh on his fingers suddenly reminds him, and he pulls back (noting the way she still drifts towards him) and removes the smallest of his rings.

“I want you to have this.”

Betty looks stunned from beneath her long lashes as he tests her fingers until finding her middle one fits the best. Part of him is disappointed it isn’t her fourth finger, but perhaps that time will come.

“I think…I think it would behoove us to assume this is a promise ring.” He wets his lips, trying to look sincere (and maybe he is). “We are going to get into our respective Ivy League colleges. We are going to travel this path to success together.”

“And Riverdale?” Hope shines in those beautiful blue-green eyes.

“I’m sure I can talk my father into sticking around for a few more years.”

Grateful, she wraps her arms around him and gives him a hard smooch. It’s so easy with her sometimes. He lets out a breath of laughter in between embraces.

 

* * *

 

Now that it’s been decided he’s going to be _staying_ for a while, he has to be careful. His father is elated, of course. Betty’s been perfectly lovely at family dinners, and his father even managed to survive without getting toasted at the Cooper’s. In fact, Mrs. Cooper seems to have an eye for alcoholic tendencies, further leaning into his theory that Hal may be a bit of a drinker himself. To his amusement, Alice even aggressively hints that _their_ family is more than capable and happy to take Lucas under their wing.

“Likewise,” his father guffaws. “Although it seems like Betty’s got things under control.” The way his father slides his gaze pointedly in his direction makes Lucas’s blood boil. As if that man knows anything about control…as if _Lucas_ is something to _be_ controlled.

“Betty and I are running for student council,” Lucas announces suddenly. Betty nearly drops her fork in surprise.

“Are we?”

“Yes,” he says mildly, hand covering hers. At his reassuring smile, she takes a deep breath, and he can already see her working through different posters, slogans, and speeches in her head. “We’re also nominated for homecoming court. Should be a good time.”

Everyone smiles at him except his father, who looks like he’s already calculating how much it’ll cost them to move again. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, son.”

“Oh, they can handle it,” Alice waves him off.

Betty’s been under so much pressure her whole life without collapsing that at this point she could be a diamond. Subconsciously, his fingers run over the ring on her hand.

Although he’s careful, he can’t suppress the need to give people what they _deserve_. Of course it helps if it gets Betty and him what they deserve too. When he hears Cheryl insult Betty (“I hear the camera adds ten pounds, but…how many cameras are _on_ you, Betty?”), she contracts a mysterious bout of food poisoning at school. Reggie’s too stupid to pull out running for homecoming court, so after doing some rummaging around, Betty and he find out about his _side business_ of selling drugs to his fellow Bulldogs. It’s almost too easy to get him suspended. Betty’s got a knack for this motivational sleuthing, for uncovering the truth.

While normally that might be problematic, especially considering his past, he knows Betty would understand. Without even trying she’s peeling away and getting glimpses of the person he is—the person he could be. And it’s not all _perfect_ , but it is the best.

Everything feels light, airy as they take pictures before the dance. He’s gotten her corsage, she delicately pins his boutonniere. Alice and Hal proudly take photos, Betty’s lavender dress complementing his dark purple blazer that he wears per her request. Everything feels silky, smooth, lovely. At the dance itself, he and Betty socialize politely, and the ease at which he feels make him wonder if maybe they should go into politics.

“Oh, no. Everybody’s so fake and corrupt in politics. It’s all seedy and underhanded. You’re too smart for that,” Betty shakes her head, still smiling nonetheless.

“We could fix it, Betty. Think about it. You and me. We’re unstoppable.” He pushes back some of her hair off her shoulder, wanting to mark her there. This off-the-shoulder dress makes him want to do a _lot_ of things to her. As if sensing his hunger, she presses her hips against him and kisses his cheek, lingering close enough to whisper in his ear.

“Later,” she promises, just as Kevin approaches with a dark-haired young man in tow. As Kevin’s occasional lab partner, he’s heard about this Joaquin. Apparently they met at the cinema. He’s short and quiet, but Kevin seems enamored.

“Well, it’s unofficial. You two are definitely going to win. God, it’s like you’re the Lannister twins or something. Hot blondes taking the throne.”

Lucas feigns amusement, but Betty seems positively tickled. He only watches her shows to stay in the loop, but most of the time he prefers mysteries or documentaries. At best her shows are a character study, and Game of Thrones has given him some ideas on how to get ahead.

“Lucas, would you mind terribly if I asked Betty for one dance? Joaquin hates this song and it’s _tradition_.”

“Please,” Lucas offers, removing his hand from Betty’s waist. With one last kiss on the cheek, she departs, happily moving into a swing-step with Kevin and laughing on the dance floor.

Joaquin asks some polite questions about Lucas and Betty, which he answers and reciprocates pleasantly enough until the sight of Archie stepping in for a slow dance with his girl sets him on edge. Archie doesn’t go for the _friendly_ middle-school position. No. His hands go right on her waist, big smile as he tells her how beautiful she is.

Lucas twists his rings harshly, including the new one Betty got for him (it’s only fair to get you a replacement, she’d smiled).

“You okay?” Joaquin asks, looking dubious as Kevin rejoins them.

Jolted out of his glowering, he manages a fake smile for the stranger. “Yeah. Fine. Excuse me.”

He ducks out of further conversation and makes his way closer, keeping a close eye on the redhead and his girlfriend. What little he can make out about their conversation is light. She asks about his performance, reminding Lucas that Archie’s guitar is just off to the side of the stage. As he continues eavesdropping, he easily finds the guitar and messes with a few of the knobs on the side. Just enough to be off-key. He’ll have to re-tune during the live performance, if he even gets that chance at all. Pleased with his work, Lucas returns to the pair. They look _happy_. Betty’s expression is soft, as is Archie’s, and Lucas hates them for it.

“May I have a word?” he asks bluntly, pulling Archie decidedly on the shoulder. A few people turn to look.

“Um, yeah. ‘Scuse us Betty,” Archie apologizes, slipping off to the side of the gym. Betty opens her mouth to say something, maybe to stop them, but Lucas is walking too fast for her to catch up. He turns on Archie, ready to get physical if needed.

“Listen pal, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing at…but I _win._ ”

“Win what?”

Archie’s stupid face doesn’t fool him for a minute. “Betty. You think I don’t see the way you look at her? The next time you put your hands on her will be the last time you have hands.” Stunned, Archie reels backwards. Lucas is so worked up he doesn’t even catch his own Game of Thrones reference. “Might make it a little hard to play guitar with your fingers broken, wouldn’t it, Arch?”

“Dude. I get it. You’re her boyfriend. But she’s my _best friend_ ,” he argues, even though Lucas wants to scream _NO, SHE’S MINE!_ “I’m not going to just abandon her. We’re going to talk…and sometimes touch, like friends do. You two have been inseparable and I’m not trying to get between that. I just miss hanging out with her.”

“Betty has a future, Archie. She’s not some High School Musical cliché wandering the halls hoping the boy next door notices her.” She _used_ to be, he notes bitterly. Reading her early diaries had been particularly painful, but the recent ones delving into darkness and devotion to Lucas set him back on the right path. “I’m getting her to Harvard. She deserves the best, and you can’t give it to her. We… _we_ are the best, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. So quit trying to get your dirty football fingers all over my girl before I rip them off and feed them to your dog.”

“What the hell, man?!”

The blonde perfection of Betty interrupts them before the shoving match can truly begin, and it takes Lucas a full second before he can rearrange his face into something Betty-appropriate. “Guys! Whatever this is, it has to stop.”

“Betty, this nut job—“ Archie protests.

“Not now, Arch. They’re—“

Principal Weatherby speaks solemnly from the stage. “Thank you all for coming. Tonight, I have the honor of presenting the Homecoming court.”

Bristling with anxiety, Archie drops to Betty’s other side, whispering, “I need to talk to you.”

“Later, Archie,” she hisses back, taking Lucas’s hand. Lucas’s gaze levels on the redhead until he backs off, distraught, into the crowd. The jock’s retreat makes his lips curl up in a smile.

Weatherby clears his throat, “And here we have two students who exemplify the ideal Riverdale student. All-American, straight A’s, dedicated to truth, justice, and honor—I now present your homecoming reps Lucas Ward and Betty Cooper!”

This is it, he breathes happily. One of the moments. Yearbook staffers photograph them, cementing their status as Riverdale royalty. Betty beams up at him, letting him lead the way to the stage. There are no _real_ faces in the crowd.

“See?” she whispers to him as they’re crowned. “You belong here.”

No. Not yet. But he has a feeling he can make Riverdale into what it needs to be. But right now, all he needs is Betty, smiling and radiant to complete the perfect picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, Betty is not the fully-blown psycho that Lucas is. She does investigate and take down Reggie, but she doesn't give Cheryl food poisoning or anything like that. She suspects Lucas may have had something to do with it, and part of her might be flattered, but she's still an optimist that they're really in this to do the right thing together. Lucas is already plotting domination along Hiram Lodge's book.
> 
> What did ya think? Passages, kudos, and comments mean the world to me ^-^
> 
> Also you'll notice this is part of a SERIES so the next work is going to bring in Jughead. It's not going to be a doppleganger thing, and to make my life easier I'm just going to pretend Jug looks more like comic!Jughead instead of Riverdale's version. I'm tempted to bring in Veronica and Hiram because Mr. Ward could easily be Hiram's lawyer, but that may make things too complicated. Scenes you wanna see? Characters? Want Doiley to get a taste of Ward justice? Things you love? Let me know!


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